978 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 22, 1906. 
has been something astounding, and land 
values have jumped from the Government 
price, up to $10 or more an acre. The dis¬ 
covery that winter wheat—or, as they call it 
here, fall wheat—can be raised without water 
and will produce crops running from twenty 
to thirty-five bushels to the acre, has brought 
in a great population. They tear up the soil 
with steam plows, and they thresh with steam 
threshers. Live stock does well, but the day 
of the open range is past. The rancher has 
come to take the place of the range man, 
and cattle, horses and sheep are now raised 
in small numbers only. The farms run close 
up to the mountain, and their owners and 
occupants are not only people from western 
Canada and Great Britain, but immigrants 
from Iowa, the Dakotas, Nebraska and Mich¬ 
igan. 
We had not been long on the train, when 
we passed a mountain from which a year or 
two since the whole side slid away, burying 
deep under an enormous mass of rocks one 
end of the mining village of Frank. It is es¬ 
timated that eighty-five people were over¬ 
whelmed by this rocky avalanche, which filled 
the wide valley and rushed out across it and 
far up on the opposite hills. Here are still 
seen—piled together in inextricable confusion 
or standing alone on bare hillside—masses of 
rock, sometimes as large as a house, hurled 
from the midst of the mountain mass with a 
momentum of which we can form no concep¬ 
tion. The slide took place just before day¬ 
light, and caught the people in their beds, 
burying them forever. A new track has been 
built across the slide and winds about among 
the mighty rock fragments. 
From here the railroad follows up the val¬ 
ley of Old Man’s River, and soon the summit 
of the Rockies is passed. Instantly the vege¬ 
tation changes. Now tamarack grows among 
the pines, and a little further to the westward, 
white cedar and hemlock appear. There is 
here a wonderful growth of timber, but now 
and then pines and cedars are s*een standing- 
dead among the living trees. Such dead trees 
have not been killed by fire, and it is prob¬ 
able that insects—borers or bark-eaters—have 
killed them. Sometimes trees and often twigs, 
are girdled by insects and so killed. A lum¬ 
berman with whom I talked about the lumber 
business spoke with enthusiasm of its profits. 
The lumberers cut everything on the limits 
which they hire, and pay the Government 50 
cents a thousand feet. 
Through this country there are reported to 
be plenty of deer and caribou, some elk and 
moose, some sheep and goats, splendid fishing 
and a few birds. 
I talked with a gentleman who had just 
reached the Crow’s Nest Branch, coming 
south with a pack train from Banff on the 
main Canadian' Pacific line to Moyie. Flis 
wife was with him, and they had had a de¬ 
lightful trip. He told a thrilling tale of meet¬ 
ing on the trail a giant bull moose, which had 
seemed disposed to interfere with the progress 
of the pack train. They had every oppor¬ 
tunity to kill it, but the animal was so huge 
and their requirements for food so small that 
it seemed not worth while to do so. 
On their journey they came across two or 
three camps of Indians, from some of whom 
sheep meat was purchased. 
The authorities of Alberta and British Col- 
umbia are said to have not a little trouble with 
the Indians who kill game at all seasons of 
the year for food and hides. Of the Indians 
the Stonies and the Kootenais are said to be 
the most destructive. The Stonies belong 
in Alberta, on the east side of the divide of the 
Rockies, and the Kootenais in British Col¬ 
umbia, on the west side. The Stonies have 
no right to hunt in British Columbia, but 
nevertheless they camp along the line and 
make short hunting dashes into that province. 
The Kootenais and Stonies are jealous of 
each other, and this year the Kootenais are 
reported to be w r atching for depredations by 
the Stonies, whom they would like to deliver 
into the hands of the British Columbia author¬ 
ities. 
Swinging down the mountainside, we did 
not tire of watching the green pine and cedar 
mountains, dotted here and there with the 
yellow of the tamarack. The forest showed 
the characteristics of British Columbia, whose 
moist climate nourishes a .rank vegetation. 
At length we reached Kootenai Landing, 
where the train was left for the boat, which 
a few hours later transferred us again to the 
train, and at West Robson, by another change, 
we found ourselves on the comfortable steam¬ 
boat Kootenai, and prepared for the trip up 
Arrow Lake. Yo. 
[to be continued.1 
The Rubaiyat of Bob Mallory. 
A good many years ago’ Robert E. Mallory, 
M.D., located in Dobbstown because New York 
city life did not tend to aid in the recovery of 
the health which he had lost during a studious 
college course. Outdoor life and exercise were 
recommended and in those days the life of a 
country physician encompassed about as much 
outdoor exercise as anything else. Dobbstown 
had been chosen as a location because a medical 
journal spoke of an “opening” there. Robert E. 
Mallory, M.D., filled that opening and chinked 
the corners with Mrs. Mallory and an infant son 
and daughter. In the years that followed, health 
came to the elder Mallory, and an occasional 
epidemic to the community, so that in his ripe 
old age he saw his son, Robert, Jr., completing 
with honors, his course in medical college, his 
daughter comfortably married to Mr. Pettegrew 
of the Dobbstown National Bank, and the name 
of the head of the Mallory family well toward 
the head of the list of largest tax payers in the 
county. Then “Doc.” Mallory called in his 
lawyer, divided his property equally between his 
two children, and fallowed the path his wife had 
taken several years before to the World Beyond. 
Up to the present time Dobbs county people re¬ 
gard “the year that ‘Doc.’ Mallory died” as a 
mile stone in local history and his funeral still 
holds the record for attendance. 
At the time of his father’s death, young Bob 
had been out of college about a month, and 
naturally everyone supposed that he would take 
up the practice which his father had left, but his 
natural inclination to shun any unnecessary ex¬ 
ertion, coupled with a desire to do a friend a 
good turn, was responsible for the shock which 
shook Dobbs county to the core when the Dobbs¬ 
town Weekly Bugle announced six weeks after 
the death of the elder Mallory: “We are in¬ 
formed that the office and practice of the late 
Robert E. Mallory, M.D., will be occupied within 
a short while by the firm of Drs. Mallory and 
McLean, the former being the son of our late 
fellow townsman. Dr. McLean is already 
known to many in this vicinity, as during his 
college course, recently completed, he was the 
roommate of his present partner, at whose home 
in this city he was a frequent visitor. The best 
wishes of The Bugle are for the success of the 
young men. The professional announcement will 
be found on page four of this issue.” 
The sensation which followed the reading of 
this announcement about the hearthstones of 
Dobbs county was startling. “What use had they 
for two doctors?” the natives asked one another. 
That the fees for medical services would be 
doubled was doubted by but few, and the news 
of the advent of two doctors where one had been 
sufficient for years before was not hailed with 
joy by anyone. 
As they always do, however, matters gradually 
arranged themselves, and people began to realize 
that :“Doc. Bob” Mallory was what might be 
termed the silent partner in the firm, as but little 
of his time was spent in the office and his ef¬ 
forts in a medical way were mostly devoted to 
the perfecting of a line of dog remedies which 
he was placing on the. market, and which, to the 
surprise of many, found, a ready sale. “The very 
ideer!” exclaimed Mrs. Henry L. G. Phillips, 
wife of the proprietor of the Beehive Store, “The 
very ideer of perscribin’ fer dogs: an’ more than 
that, a sellin’ them there remedies, too.” Not¬ 
withstanding such criticism as this, “Doc. Bob” 
continued to cater to the ills of the canine world 
while his partner attended to the needs of the 
ailing humans of Dobbs county. The years that 
followed the death of his father produced no 
perceptible change in Bob. The increasing de¬ 
mands for his brand of dog remedies necessitated 
‘that he should spend several days of each week 
in preparing his canine pills and powders, but all 
of his spare hours were spent in the woods and 
fields with dog and gun, or along the river, fish¬ 
ing rod in hand. Bob enjoyed this sort of life 
immensely and there was no reason why he 
should not indulge in it to the fullest extent, but 
Dobbstown and Dobbs county are inclined to 
look askance upon indulgence at recreation of 
any kind and to spend one’s time hunting or fish¬ 
ing is considered almost sinful—so near, in fact, 
WILD TURKEYS—GOBBLER AND HEN IN PHILADELPHIA ZOOLOGICAL HARK. 
Photo by Supt. Robert D.' Carson. 
